An Age of Blood and Fire
by Draic Kin of the Balance
Summary: AU. As a red comet streaks through the sky, the game of thrones is ever-changing. Blood is spilled, alliances forged and broken, and winter is coming.
1. Chapter One: Bleeding Star

**An Age of Blood and Fire**

**By Draic Kin of the Balance**

* * *

The image of her father's bloody, decapitated head was ingrained into Sansa's memory. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't banish it from her remembrance. She would never forget. _I was to be Joffrey's queen. It was not supposed to be like this: my father dead, Bran fallen, and Arya lost. _She shook her head, feeling tears stinging in her eyes. There was no time for her to mourn for her father. She rose from her bed to leave her chambers when the door opened.

"Your Grace," she said tersely. "What brings you here at this hour?"

"I offer you my sincere apologies for Lord Eddard's execution, my lady," Joffrey began, drawing towards her. She slowly backed away from him, trying to keep a distance between them. "He was a traitor to the Seven Kingdoms. To let him take the black seemed unreasonable, something a fool would allow."

"He was my father," Sansa said angrily. "You promised me mercy, and you took his head!" She felt the burn of tears in her eyes, and she quickly blinked them back. _You're a wolf of Winterfell. Wolves do not weep before their enemies. _"Release me. Let me go home to Winterfell." At those words, she felt the sting of the king's slap. Gently, she pressed a hand to her cheek, glaring defiantly at him.

"We are to be wed once your moon blood comes," he hissed. "Have you forgotten that? You _will _respect me, as your king and lord husband. Who knows? Perhaps I won't have to punish you as I did your father." Joffrey smirked at the thought before making his leave. Sansa felt a surge of hatred and anger towards him. It was a cruel fate; he had been the one to order her father's killing, and she was to become his wife and bear his children.

"I loved you once," she whispered. "Now, I would rather die with my father than wed you." She sat by the window. She couldn't bring herself to see Joffrey again, or Cersei. Both of them, she loathed. As she looked up towards the stars, a red comet cut through the sky, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. _The gods have given a sign to us all. War is coming._

* * *

Even in the night, the heat was excruciating. Daenerys Targaryen knew the _khalasar _couldn't go much further. Bullets of sweat streamed down her body, her throat was aflame, her head was spinning, and she felt she would collapse any moment. Her dragons were acting erratically as well. Drogon was becoming increasingly aggressive towards the _khalasar, _Viserion had wounded Ser Jorah in a brief, but bloody skirmish over what remained of the food supplies, and Rhaegal had attacked Drogon.

"We can't go on like this, _Khaleesi_," Ser Jorah said to her. "If we venture further into this waste, surely you will lose your people to death. Many have already died of heat stroke, dehydration and starvation. We need to rest." He pressed a hand to his injured shoulder. The bleeding had ceased, and he appeared to be okay.

"Rest we shall," Dany told him. "We will set up camp for the night, and move as soon as day breaks." Falling into the Dothraki tongue, she ordered to the _khalasar, _"Tonight, we will rest and regain our strength for tomorrow's journey. Aggo, Jhogo, Rakharo. Come."

"What is it you wish of us, _Khaleesi_?" Rakharo asked her.

"Take your strongest horses," she began, "and search for civilization. Cities, living or dead. Rakharo, you go northeast. Aggo, southeast. Jhogo, southwest. If you find anything, return back to the _khalasar_ as soon and as quickly the Great Stallion bids you. You are my last hope, blood of my blood."

"What are we to do if we are unable to find civilization?"

"Continue your search. If you find yourself or your steed weary, immediately return," continued Dany. "Be careful."

"We shall, _Khaleesi_. Farewell, blood of my blood."

"Farewell, blood of my blood." Dany watched as her bloodriders departed, and gazed towards the stars. The comet streaked through the heavens, the color of fire and blood. _Fire and blood – the Targaryen words. _To the Dothraki, the comet was a dark omen. Some believed it was a message sent from the Great Stallion, warning of the consequences of Khal Drogo's passing. Others thought it to be a sign that the Stallion was unhappy with them, and they feared the wrath of their god.

Dany made her way to Ser Jorah. Her strength was dwindling, and she would lose consciousness soon. He rose to his feet and rushed towards her, and he was the last thing she saw before a black rose bloomed in her vision. She thought she heard him cry her name, but she wasn't sure.

* * *

_Your lord father is dead, executed by Joffrey of the House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm on account of treason. _Bran sat in his bedchambers, his mind reeling. It couldn't be true. Father was not a traitor. He was an honorable man, both as a man and father and husband to Mother. Why would the king have him executed? It couldn't be true. Father wasn't dead, and Joffrey was a liar. He was too stunned, too numb, to weep for his father as Rickon had.

"Bran?" He looked up to see Osha entering his chambers. "How…how are you?" she asked gently. "I am sorry about your lord father."

"Did Rickon or Maester Luwin send you?" Bran said despondently.

"No. I sent myself," Osha answered, and sat down on the bed next to him. "It is not a sin to mourn for the fallen, Brandon Stark."

"I know, Osha," he said. "I just…I can't believe Father's gone. I can't believe he betrayed the Seven Kingdoms as Joffrey claims."

"Westerosi politics are ruthless and unforgiving. You have no freedom, and are bound to your oaths." The wildling sighed. "I apologize." She held Bran in her arms, and he made no effort to fight the hot tears streaming down his face.


	2. Chapter Two: Betrothals and Marriages

"Must you go, my lion?" Shae stroked Tyrion's arm as he rose from the bed. Tyrion nodded and sighed. If the gods were kind, they would let him stay forever in his chambers with Shae – but there were important matters at hand that needed to be dealt with.

_Joffrey and my sweet sister have always been the root of my problems, _he thought with sour amusement. He donned his clothing, finding himself gazing lustfully at Shae's naked form. She was beautiful, so beautiful it left him breathless. "If I weren't the Hand of the King, I would do as a pleased with you."

Shae laughed. "You do as you please with me every night," she said. "Do I truly have to remain in this tower? It reeks of shit and piss, and you know I don't like being told what to do."

"It is for your protection, Shae," Tyrion explained. "I am the Hand now. Joffrey is the king on the Iron Throne, and Cersei queen regent. If they knew about you being here –"

"I am not afraid of the bloody king and his mother," Shae snapped.

"You would be both brave and foolish to be unafraid of my nephew," the dwarf said shortly. He kissed her briefly. "Until tonight."

"Until tonight," she said. Tyrion departed from the Tower, making his way to the Red Keep. He couldn't help but think of Sansa Stark; Joffrey was holding her in King's Landing against her will. Was he no better than the boy by keeping his Shae in the Tower of the Hand? _You are not your nephew, _he reminded himself. _Joffrey is Aerys Targaryen come again, crueler and just as vicious. Perhaps history will repeat itself, and Jaime will stay true to his name of Kingslayer. His demise would only cause grief to Cersei, and Cersei alone._ If anything was certain, it was that Joffrey was no king.

Tyrion was taken aback to find the small council abuzz. Joffrey was gleeful, and Cersei attempting to share her son's happiness. She was wary, but why? "I see the council has engaged in a meeting that I was not aware of," he said pointedly. "I am glad to see you here, Cersei. And Joffrey. There is something that we need to talk about."

"And what would that be?" Cersei asked.

"Sansa's betrothal to Joffrey," said Tyrion. "I do not think she should marry him after what has transpired." _She does not deserve any of what has happened to her and her family. _

"Ah, yes," Varys agreed. "Sansa has the blood of a traitor. It would be unfit if she married Joffrey."

"Would you not say a wedding would be the perfect occasion?" Joffrey suggested. "Her lord father lost his head, and we are at war, are we not?"

"Stannis and Renly Baratheon want the Iron Throne for themselves," began Cersei, "and it appears Robb Stark is now the King in the North. We are at war, yes, and we will crush those who oppose us."

"As Eddard Stark opposed you?" Tyrion challenged. "You see, my dearest sister, I am not as naïve as all of the Seven Kingdoms. Are you truly that desperate to keep this boy on the throne?"

"I am your _king_!" roared Joffrey, slamming his hands on the table and rising to his feet. "The Seven Kingdoms answer to me, and to me alone! Challenge my position as king again, and I will have _your _head."

"Was that supposed to be a threat?" The dwarf glared at the boy. "I am your Hand, not your prisoner. Kill me, and you will have the splendid task of finding a Hand that will gladly serve you. After your brutal treatment of Sansa Stark, I can imagine it will not be easy."

"The Stark bitch is mine, imp," the boy king snarled. "I shall marry her before the Seven and fuck her until she gives me an heir." He smirked at the thought.

_He is truly mad, _thought Tyrion. _Never would I have guessed we would see a vicious idiot for a king. _"Why do you wish to wed her?" he demanded. "Varys said it himself. Sansa is Eddard Stark's daughter, and he was proclaimed a traitor before he lost his head. I would think marrying her now would be a dishonor to you and the entire Baratheon dynasty."

"The boy needs a lady wife, Tyrion," said Varys. "Cersei, what do you think? Should your son wed the Stark girl or find another woman to marry?"

"I agree with my son," she said assertively. "We should see a wedding in light of recent events. Sansa has not yet flowered, but when she does, she shall marry Joffrey. The wedding will be a grand occasion for us all."

"So it has been decided that Joffrey and Sansa will be married upon her first flowering," Varys announced, and the council disbanded, leaving Tyrion and Cersei in the room together.

"Do you realize what you've done, sister?" Tyrion said angrily.

"I don't care about the Stark girl," Cersei said coldly. "Joffrey wants to wed her. Who am I to deny him the wife he desires?"

"Don't take me for a fool. I'm not sure what I find more perplexing: why you're forcing Sansa into a loveless marriage or what it was that Ned Stark knew that cost him his life. You, sweet sister, are full of mysteries."

"Ned Stark was a fool. Nothing more. It was the Iron Throne he wanted, so he sought out to overthrow Joffrey. Don't presume he knew anything."

_She's lying, _Tyrion's intuition whispered. "Sweet sister, unlike Ned, I know how this game is played. We both know you're lying through your teeth. I do not know what it is you are hiding, but I promise you that your secrets cannot stay hidden forever."

"Burn in hellfire." Cersei's voice was shaking with anger and fear.

"So I shall."

* * *

"The wildlings have been moving in large numbers," said Jeor Mormont solemnly. "It appears some are fleeing, and others preparing for war. This is not something we can ignore. Already several of our men have been lost."

"What do you suggest we do?" Jon asked. "Venture beyond the Wall to see what is going on?" The other men of the Night's Watch were set abuzz by this suggestion. Never had the Night's Watch abandoned its post; they were the one thing standing between the Other, the wildlings, and Westeros. To leave their posts would leave the Wall vulnerable to attack, which in turn would leave the Seven Kingdoms unguarded.

"That may very well be our only option, Jon," the lord commander said. "Too many men have been lost. Benjen Stark, our first Ranger, is one of them. To idly stand by would be nothing more than cowardice. If the wildings are planning to attack the Wall, we will do what is necessary for the realm, as we always have." He looked over his men, his gaze determined and unflinching. "We cannot afford cowardice. Dark times have come, and much darker times have yet to come. Each and every one of you have sworn yourselves to the Night's Watch, from the day you came to Castle Black until the end of your days. Remember your vows. We move at first light."


	3. Chapter Three: Blood Beyond the Wall

The Night's Watch was abuzz. Jon exchanged a glance with Samwell. Not a word had been exchanged between them since the assembly; what was there to say? _Are you afraid? There is a chance we may not make it back to the Wall alive. _He knew Sam was scared to go into the unknown beyond the Wall's borders. A part of him was fearful as well.

_You cannot be afraid, _he told himself. _You are a man of the Night's Watch. _"Sam," he said to him.

Sam turned to him. His face was red – both from the cold and fear. His sword was unsheathed, and he looked as if he was about to crumble at any given moment. "J-J-Jon," he stammered. "You…you startled me. Gods be good, I'm not meant for this. I shouldn't even be here, by any means! I-I know I made my vows and there's no turning back –" Tears were sliding down his cheeks. "Coming to the Wall w-w-was a huge mistake. I should not have come!"

"Sam, there is one way out of the Night's Watch," Jon reminded him. "Death. You can't simply abandon your brothers, and you know that. The last ranger who did thus was executed."

"I may be a crow," Sam reminded him, "but I'm not an idiot, Jon." Jon was about to respond when Jeor shouted, "Brothers, we're leaving now! Leave nothing behind that you will need. Samwell, you are in charge of the ravens. Should anything happen, you are to send ravens to the Seven Kingdoms. No hesitation, no questions. Am I understood?"

"Y-yes, sir."

* * *

Jon was no fool. The risks of going beyond the Wall's borders were many. The wildlings were scattering about, and the Others were…

_The Others haven't been sighted in hundreds of years – but Will. Before his execution, he was rambling on like a madman about seeing dead children with blue eyes. _He remembered it clearly. The man's words had been dismissed by Eddard and the Seven Kingdoms. If Will's words had indeed rung true, then the Night's Watch was walking into the arms of Death. The Seven Kingdoms would not survive the winter. He prayed to the gods it was nothing but lies. It was terrifying to imagine the Others attacking Westeros once again. The Long Night had claimed the lives of many. History could not repeat itself. Jon was drawn out of his thoughts when Ghost suddenly took off running. Up ahead, he thought he could see smoke and the light of a fire.

"Wildlings," said Jeor. "This will end in blood, no doubt. We're going to bring who we can to our camp and see if we can gain some answers to this madness. The wildlings are merciless, Snow. They will put an arrow through your throat without second thought."

"I am not a crow, sir," Jon reminded him heatedly. "I do not intend to forsake my vows_." I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all nights to come. _The group advanced towards the light of the fire. Indeed, there was a band of wildlings sitting around the flames, locked in discussion.

"We strike now," the lord commander said quietly, and strike they did. Everything happened so quickly. An arrow whistled through the air, missing Jon only by a hair. With his sword, he sliced the throat of an oncoming assailant. Their blood decorated the snow. One of the wildlings – a woman, with bright red hair – aimed an arrow at Jon's heart. Her gaze was cold, menacing, merciless. In his peripheral vision, he saw his men cut down her companions.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you," she said. "You killed my kin like they were naught but a pack o' animals." She chuckled. "A man of the Night's Watch, are you? You're naught but a fool to come here."

"If you wanted to kill me," Jon countered, "you would have done so already. What is it that stalls your hand?"

"I'll let you walk away," the woman began, "on one condition." She was cut off as Jeor struck her over the head from behind her with a giant rock. She crumpled to the ground, unconscious and bleeding.

"What in seven hells was that?!" Jon exclaimed.

"We know she was never going to come with us of her own will, Jon," said Jeor. "Be not soft. She may be a pretty girl, but she is dangerous. Come."


End file.
